Lord Bachelor by Tammy L. Bailey

(about this author)

  • Edmund Rushwood is a single English lord in possession of a great fortune who is in desperate need of a rich wife.  In accordance with his father’s will, Edmund has until he turns twenty-six to find a wealthy bride or lose his vast inheritance. To retain his selfish lifestyle, he agrees to join an American dating game show to find the woman who can save him. He doesn’t bargain on meeting Abby Forester, an impoverished, spirited American woman who is content to live out her father’s dreams in his vintage record shop.

    With covert intervention from an unlikely source, Abby lands on the dating game show as one of Edmund’s potential brides. As their worlds entangle and love begins to bloom, Abby discovers Edmund cannot marry her and retain his wealth at the same time. Will love keep them together, or will greed triumph and tear them apart?


    For a long moment, she stared at him, mouth agape, not sure if this was some sort of British humor she didn’t understand. Well, she supposed it didn’t cost her anything to give him what he wanted. “Thank you.”

    His smile widened. “I thought American girls were all about, uhm,” he paused, his gaze sliding to her slightly parted lips, “…affectionate forms of appreciation.”

    Abby exhaled. Did he really expect her to kiss him? Well, she wasn’t going to, no matter how many times her gaze wandered to his mouth. “I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me, Mr.—”

    “Lord,” he corrected her with the slightest conceited bow. “Lord Rushwood.”

    She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Pardon me. Lord Rushwood.”

    “You may still call me Edmund.”

    This time she brought her hands to her face, ready to let out a frustrated scream. He didn’t move as she parted her fingers and peeked through them. Growing more annoyed, she dropped her hands to her sides and squared her shoulders. “I have thanked you…Edmund, so I will not be wrapping my arms around your neck and inviting you up for a night of, whatever you call it in England—”

    “Rogering? Shagging?”

    She closed her eyes and brought in a therapeutic breath. “Never mind,” she replied, trying to extinguish the blush spreading like a wildfire into her face. “I should just throw you out for not being a paying customer.”

    He nodded as if he understood and then lifted his manicured finger in front of her. “Wait here.”

    She stood stunned as he ambled down the stairway and up again, carrying something tucked underneath his left arm. “How much for the ‘Meet the Beatles’ album?”

    Her mouth twisted as her mind conjured up a price. “One hundred and fifty,” she finally said.

    He arched one eyebrow. “Pounds or dollars?”

    She smiled. “Whichever one puts more money in my pocket.” She really didn’t want to sell the record. It had been one her father’s favorite albums. She thought with the steep price, he’d call her insane and stomp away.

    “Well, it’s highway robbery either way.”

    Abby shrugged. “Not really. You see, if you wouldn’t have distracted me, I might have been able to prevent Kendra from getting in and taking the money from my cash register.”


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Lord Bachelor

Lord Bachelor

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